It Wasn't
by Denaliyasha
Summary: Set post Nesting Dolls. Grissom's second trip to Sara's apartment, and what we didn't see. GSR, short and fluffy.


Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: Because I'm sad, and watching Sara cry made me cry. During Nesting Dolls.

**It Wasn't**

"Grissom."

"Yes?" He paused in exiting the room.

"Why are you making excuses for her insubordination?" Catherine raised an eyebrow, a move she seemed to have picked up from her ex-boss.

"I didn't make excuses, Catherine. I told the truth." He turned completely to face her and leaned against the doorframe. Catherine was suddenly reminded of Sara.

"Your management is the reason she went off on a suspect, me, and Ecklie? Come on, Gil, Sara's just a loose cannon, like Ecklie said. She's not worth risking your career for."

He suddenly seemed taller as he straightened up and glared at her. "You know nothing about Sara, Catherine. I will not fire her for this."

"I should have known you wouldn't be impartial." Catherine's expression turned to disgust.

His face set, and he closed the door behind him so that nobody else could hear them. "And why would you think something like that?"

"Because she's always been your favorite. Ever since she came, you've been giving her special treatement."

"Excuse me?" He was seriously pissed off. "I asked her here because I needed another set of eyes, unbiased. I asked her to stay because she's a great CSI and we had an opening. I don't treat her differently than I do anyone else. It's all in your perception, Catherine. You see me smile at her, and suddenly I'm giving her special treatment. Just because I knew her before she came here doesn't mean that I can't be trusted to take the proper disciplinary action."

"Of course it does. You've been in love with her since the beginning."

"Catherine, I'm not going to have this discussion with you. If you can't trust my judgement, we have nothing more to talk about." He opened the door and stalked out.

123-123-123-123-123

Sara was napping on the couch when the knock on the door woke her. She stumbled, bleary-eyed, to the door, for once not bothering to use the peephole.

"Grissom? What are you doing here?"

He lifted a bag. "Shift's over. I went out and got bagels. You want some?"

She smiled. "Sure. Come in." She stood back so that he could pass her, and he made his way into her kitchen area. She watched amusedly as he moved busily about, finding the cottage cheese she'd forgotten she had (thank goodness it wasn't moldy) and cutting the bagels in half.

"Do you clean, too?"

"Huh?" He looked at her, confused.

"Cause if you do, you'd make someone the perfect wife."

He looked offended, and she laughed at the expression on his face. "Excuse me!" He was having a hard time keeping his face straight.

"Come on, Grissom. I was kidding."

He smiled at that, a real, honest-to-God smile, like the ones he used to wear. She searched her memory. It was the sort of free, open, happy smile he had used when she'd brought him the blanket and coffee when they were sitting up with the rotting pig. It wasn't the kind of sly, I-know-something-you-don't smile he used on suspects and it wasn't the smirk he used when he said something shocking, like that "Since I met you" comment. It was a smile that made him seem ten years younger.

"Is there something on my face?" She realized with a start that she'd been staring.

She lifted her hand and rubbed in gently across his cheek. This time, though, she offered no excuse.

"What was it?"

"Absolutely nothing." She shrugged, a blush spreading gently across her nose.

"Ah." He smiled tentatively, like he wasn't quite sure if that was the right reaction. He set down the plate he was holding, and mirrored her gesture. She leaned into his hand, bringing both her hands up to cover his. She squeezed them briefly before she stepped away.

"Thanks for the breakfast." She sat down on the couch, folding her feet under her. He noticed that she looked much happier since she'd cried on his shoulder. It seemed as though most of her anger had dissipated for the moment, at least.

He handed her the plate with the bagels and cream cheese, laughing at her childish glee in the hands-on food. She took a bite, savoring the simple pleasure.

"You're awfully happy for someone who almost got fired today." His tone was vaguely reprimanding, but his eyes were indulgent.

"You know what? I don't want to dwell on that. I really don't. If I don't live in the present, I won't be able to survive this life, Grissom. Not with the way you treated me, and the things we see every day. I can't afford to live in the past and remember everything that's ever happened. I'll be properly apologetic to Ecklie when I see him, and I'll stick out my tongue at him behind his back, like I always do." She looked pointedly at him. "The way I know you've done a time or two."

"I've never stuck my tongue out at him." His voice was full of mock outrage.

"But you've thought about it." She grinned. "It's the thought that counts."

"I suppose." He tilted his head in acknowledgement. He sat next to her and leaned in to grab his own bagel. She caught his wrist and instead lifted part of hers to his lips. He took a bite, his eyes locked with hers. It was a curiously intimate moment. When she lowered her hand, he leaned forward to brush a gentle kiss across her forehead. She leaned into him, avoiding the cream cheese hazard between them. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and they sat there, on the couch, staring into space.

She broke the silence first. "Griss?"

"Yes?" Somehow, his voice had dropped to a whisper.

"I thought that you had this thing about touching me."

"Why?"

"Well, that's just the way you've acted. How could I not assume that was the reason?"

"It wasn't."

A/N: Review, please.


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